Let's start over...
Happy birthday, katieowrites!!!
~*~
I'm feeling pretty good right now, so I'm going to share with you all a cookie from my summer-after-sixth year FTA fic. (I'm not even locking this post, that's how good I feel.)
It was only a kiss.
It could have been regarded as a common thing - how many good-night kisses had his mother planted on his forehead or his cheek? - but this kiss was neither common nor ordinary,
Because it was a first kiss.
Molly Prewett had leaned in to give Arthur Weasley a goodnight hug. Her creamy, smooth cheek had brushed against his, her arms had wound around his neck, and he had felt her breath under his chin. Her hair had been so prettily tied up but after a lengthy afternoon of cheering on the Gryffindor Quidditch team playing against Slytherin House, several locks had fought their way loose and were softly curling around her brow and at the nape of her neck in a vivid, bright halo.
She had looked so pretty that Arthur could not help himself and had kissed her gently and happily.
It was only a kiss but some how, it was more than that. It was more than a fire’s warm glow and a hot cup of tea on a frigid winter’s day. It was more than words, more than a loving caress. It was more than magic.
His heart had grown to twice its size and it beat rapidly against his ribs for some time. And when Molly had softly smiled at him, he felt truly alive for the first time.
At least, that was how Arthur remembered it. And that memory bore no resemblance to the story that Molly was relating to Fleur and the children as they sat around the kitchen table drinking Butterbeers.
~*~
I'm feeling pretty good right now, so I'm going to share with you all a cookie from my summer-after-sixth year FTA fic. (I'm not even locking this post, that's how good I feel.)
It was only a kiss.
It could have been regarded as a common thing - how many good-night kisses had his mother planted on his forehead or his cheek? - but this kiss was neither common nor ordinary,
Because it was a first kiss.
Molly Prewett had leaned in to give Arthur Weasley a goodnight hug. Her creamy, smooth cheek had brushed against his, her arms had wound around his neck, and he had felt her breath under his chin. Her hair had been so prettily tied up but after a lengthy afternoon of cheering on the Gryffindor Quidditch team playing against Slytherin House, several locks had fought their way loose and were softly curling around her brow and at the nape of her neck in a vivid, bright halo.
She had looked so pretty that Arthur could not help himself and had kissed her gently and happily.
It was only a kiss but some how, it was more than that. It was more than a fire’s warm glow and a hot cup of tea on a frigid winter’s day. It was more than words, more than a loving caress. It was more than magic.
His heart had grown to twice its size and it beat rapidly against his ribs for some time. And when Molly had softly smiled at him, he felt truly alive for the first time.
At least, that was how Arthur remembered it. And that memory bore no resemblance to the story that Molly was relating to Fleur and the children as they sat around the kitchen table drinking Butterbeers.